First Name Basis
by Lightning Ougi
Summary: [A Kurosuki Raiga fic] Waiting under the rain, Kisame gets a surprising visit. He's never been good at this kind of thing. Conversation can be entertaining, however, especially with guys like him. [One chapter only]


**First Name Basis**

A Kurosuki Raiga Fanfiction.

_Author's note: This is my first fanfiction posted here as Lightning Ougi. It is also the first known fanfiction containing filler character Kurosuki Raiga. It is a short, one chapter story, virtually a fragment, if anything._

_It's just, as it were, a simple examination of a character._

_Disclaimer, I do not own any of the Naruto characters. Dear Kishimoto does._

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"I will be back in under an hour." His partner, the obsidian eyed Uchiha, had told him. "Remain here. When I return, we will depart."  
A simple enough order. Simple enough for him to follow, being the uninterested character he was, he was never about to insist on being the leader in the partnership. It could have been his lack of concern for the actual goals, or it could have been that he simply would rather spend his time making sure no harm came to Itachi. But either way, the Akatsuki with the crimson ring came up with the orders.  
He followed.

The sky was gray, and the air was--for Kisame--deliciously thick with moisture. Like a fawn heavy doe, the sky hung poised, just ever so eager to pour rain upon the world. Ready for release.  
So he was not surprised when the first fall came down heavy, announcing its fall with heavy music on the roof. The wood that crafted houses in this area had to be specially picked. Otherwise it would rot from all the water that came down throughout the year.  
He slid shut the sliding door behind him, contented with the sight of the rain.

He listened in that small, abandoned household to the sounds the rainfall made as it graced the earth. The house, they had picked up two months ago, when its owner came to a tragic end. Not by their hands, anyways. It had belonged to an elderly woman with no surviving family. She had apparently fallen in her house and, without anyone to immediately check up on her, had died from injury and starvation. When the two Akatsuki had fled into the house, picking it out as a random hideaway, they found the body. Judging, she had been dead for about two days.

Hm. Perhaps out of pity, he had buried her, despite how useless a gesture Itachi thought it was. From that act onward, he inwardly considered himself the heir of this house, the only thing he had to his name, besides his sword, ring and cloak.  
They used it whenever their missions should require them being in the area.

The delicate floral wallpaper in the room was peeling, a corner drooping towards the ground. He breathed a soft sigh, as the minutes passed on, coated by the natural silence of the empty household. He'd have to tend to the wallpaper later; it would bother him incessantly if he didn't. But for now, he was sitting with his large, sandaled feet propped up against the low table, and his back against the wall.  
Currently, he found himself immersed in an old newspaper, left by the previous occupants of the house. How odd it was, reading it. Shinobi were rarely mentioned in it, it was merely telling about the various going-ons that occurred in the surrounding area. At least, going-ons that had happened some time ago.  
He felt as if he was reading a novel from another world.

However, he was abruptly broken out of his simple, amused thoughts by a resounding banging on the door. He lowered the paper, staring off at the entrance in question.

With a soft muttered grunt, Kisame hoisted himself to his feet, dropping the paper on the table. His whole form was tensing up as he neared the door. It could be anyone. ANBU, Hunter-nin (Although most would say those are virtually the same thing, Kisame was one of those of the group of people that would passionately disagree with you) or even a stranger from the village nearby.  
And, since they had bothered to knock on the door, the latter was actually the most likely.  
At least, this he thought until he sensed the very distinct chakra coming from the other side of the door.  
Delicately, he slid the door open, staring blankly down at his sopping wet visitor.

He was... caught off guard by the eyes of the would-be stranger peering up at him through damp bangs. He was a decent amount shorter then he, like the majority of people, but also rather well built. His loose fitting clothes were soaked with rain, shoulders slumped in a posture that nearly reflected desperation. But his eyes, his bright, teal colored eyes remained focused intently on Kisame's face.  
Several things occurred to the Akatsuki member, all at the same instant.

One, that he knew this man.  
Two, that this man, having a past with Kisame, had specifically tracked him down, and succeeded in doing so.  
Three, and most important, _this man was supposed to be dead._

For a long time--or for at least an imagined amount of time--he merely dropped his gaze to the fellow in the doorway before him, without uttering a word. Not that there was entirely much to be said at all. Certainly there were many questions he somewhat desired to ask, but none that seemed meaningful to the moment.

Finally, after a rough forced swallow, Kisame found the words that suited him.

"Kurosuki."

A mere acknowledgement of his name, at which the man before him lifted his chin in a tiny jerk.

"What are you doing here?"

Now at Kisame's words, the long familiar stranger took his own time, thinking of what to say in reply.

Either that or he was well aware of how bothering the lengthy silences were to Kisame.

"I came for a little visit." The man's voice was a ragged croak, and when he lifted a hand to peel the soaked hair out of his face, the voice matched his revealed features. His eyebrows were thick, not entirely unlike those of a certain green wearing jounin back in Konohagakure, although perhaps not as prominent. His most noticeable features, his lips, were, however, highly prominent, and very full. Kisame always compared them to those of a woman, or more humorously, those of a fish or even a frog. Thrown in were dark circles around his eyes that seemed to occur from a continuous lack of sleep. Previously mentioned, his teal eyes seemed to become more intense by those circles, and always seemed unusually wild.

Once the hair had been brushed back, he lowered his arm, corners of his mouth forming the incoming of a frown. "Surely I am, to some extent, welcome?"

Welcome? No, he would not be so sure of that. First of all, Itachi was due back in less then an hour, and the Uchiha wasn't known for his particular fondness for company. Nor for his forgiving when it came to those who could possibly compromise a mission. But apart from that there was something that bothered Kisame more.

This man was Kurosuki Raiga, known throughout most of the shinobi continent as being one of the 'Seven Shinobi Swordsmen'. That was stated of course, as if they were in some form of an organization. That was only half true. They had occasional meetings, and worked together, but organized would not describe their coexistence.

For one thing, rarely would they work together, since they were always going their own way on petty newfound interests. Or, really, running to avoid being turned into corpses from the Hunter-nin. As a plus, they all--six days out of seven--loathed each other. And even on that one day, feelings remained stoutly negative. Kisame could not deny that he found Kurosuki an absolute pest.

The younger, shorter, insane nin was always attempting to kill him in one way or another. And he himself tried his hardest to ignore him, which may have in turn only increased Raiga's hatred towards him.

Not to mention Kurosuki's relationship with Momochi Zabuza was markedly worse. Zabuza, being the abusive, snot-nosed, bastard to everyone, seemed to single out the overemotional Raiga for particular punishment.

They were constantly bickering, constantly coming to blows, and Momochi was always teasing Raiga because of his utter fascination with that little boy he had picked--

At this seemingly unimportant stream of reminiscing, a sudden, almost alarming observation came into his thoughts.

The kid.

His eyes darted as he scoped over Kurosuki again, only to come up with nothing.

The kid--who never parted with Kurosuki, and who Kurosuki never parted with--was gone.

Another forced swallow, as this brought a flicker of inexplicable dread into his stomach, and Kisame gathered himself to speak again.

"Oy, Kurosuki. Where's your kid?"

The opposing nin's eyes seemed to widen for a moment, and he let his gaze drop like a stone. Was there sadness on this teal haired man's face?

Kisame found himself shaking his head, softly.

"Come inside." For a moment, he couldn't believe he had voiced something like that. But he stood to the side of the doorway, holding it open for the man that stood out in the rain.

For a moment, he stood waiting, and perhaps hoping that his offer wouldn't be taken up.

But all hopes faded away as he heard the heavy thuds of wet boots hit the floor, and his visitor had entered.

He tracked his visitor's slow movements, and shut the sliding door behind the both of them. Yet another trifling silence clutched at their thoughts, although this one was not as intense. Kurosuki slid off his mud caked shoes, placing them politely at the door. He was a touch less polite with his over shirt, removing that dully to drop on his shoes. He wore a simple black shirt beneath it. And even that was wet.

His oddly controlled, deliberate actions seemed strikingly… wrong for Kisame.

The Raiga he knew was a wild lunatic, unable to even control himself or his emotions at times.

The complete opposite to how the leaders in Mist wanted him to act.

But now…

Kisame looked over to the kitchen area, where a stove and a dishwasher stood ready. He rested his gaze on a teapot, feeling a bit of embarrassment at the sudden thought that wrenched its way into his head.

He didn't really… want to… but his instincts--if even that be it--were urging him to do something he though was rather ridiculous.

He took a sharp inhale and breathed it out noisily, signalling his discontent to the other nuke-nin, who, at this point was simply standing in the centre of the room.

"Would you like me to…?" He lifted his hand, vaguely gesturing, "Make some tea, or something?"

He was hoping again—well, expecting, really—for his companion to turn him down. So he had to cover a cringe when the reply came.

"S-sure." Came the low response.

Kisame forced himself to turn around, no longer hiding his grimacing. '_Great…_' he grumbled, inwardly, '_Now I feel like some sort of housewife greeting him_.'

He considered for a moment that it may not be wise to turn his back on his guest, as that was a caution to be taken for any Kirigakure nin. But… as far as he was aware, his guest had yet to move from his spot where he stood.

He ran water from the tap into the black kettle and pulled out the stored tea leaves for use. He placed the teapot on the stove and switched on the heat.

He honestly wasn't surprised to turn around and find that his guest still was rooted to his spot in the house.

"You can sit down, if you want." He pointed out, gesturing in the direction of the low table, surrounded by a few cushions.

As if obeying an order, mechanically Raiga sat himself down on one of the cushions, folding his feet under him.

After a moment's pause, Kisame walked over to sit down across from him.

"What happened to your kid, Kurosuki?"

Once again Raiga lifted his head to look at him, his gaze rising from down at his hands.

He had rarely ever seen him calm. But he _had_ seen it in the teal eyed man, just never directed at him.

Kurosuki was the type of guy to snarl at you like an animal, and then threaten a thousand bloody deaths upon you.

But—as Kisame had seen—right after those feral, hateful words, he could turn around and look over his shoulder at the boy on his back. And he would speak words of tenderness unmatched by anything Kisame had ever seen in the world.

But this wasn't the gentleness that Raiga was portraying… Or any form of calm, Kisame figured. No… it wasn't calm. It was something different than that.

He was numb. There was almost a sedated air through Kurosuki, an unnatural restraint.

"Do you really wish for me to tell you?" His eyes flickered upwards, and they reflected Kisame's thoughts. His replies were coming quicker, a relief to Kisame. Each silence pressed more heavily on his mood, and he was glad to be rid of them.

No. He'd rather Raiga not tell him, in truth. He'd rather Raiga just walk out the door and leave him alone.

But…

"You came all this way to tell me, didn't you?" Kisame had a certain demanding in his voice. "You tracked me down to tell me, so I don't see how I could say no."

"…Yes."

In spite of himself, Kisame cracked a toothy grin. Ah. The motivation was there. And it stretched deeper then that.

"What happened to your kid?"

"It happened… not too long ago, as you'll know," Kurosuki slouched further forward in his seated position, his elbows scraping the table as he rested his head in his hands, "The little rein I had over that one town. Trying to earn some money to send home to the family to keep them off my back, while trying to have fun at the same time. I got sloppy, and they called out for help."

"Konoha nin…" Kisame spoke under his breath. His companion across the table nodded.

"Self righteous bastards, the lot of them." His voice fell lower, nearing the level of a growl, "They flung themselves at me _en_ _masse, _as they always do. And they…" his voice quavered, and the pause stung Kisame. Raiga lifted one hand to brush his hair out of his face before settling back into his slouched position. "Th-they took Ranmaru."

At the little child's name, something in Kisame's gut twisted painfully. An unwanted prayer sounded up in his mind faster then he could drown it. '_Please… please don't say they killed the boy._'

"The kid…" he prodded, "did he…?"

"I got Ranmaru back. He…" teal hair shifted as he raggedly shook his head. There was a muted agony in his voice. "They must have said something terrible to him. I was distracted fighting them. They took him and I was too concerned about him to fight. One of them managed to land a cheap shot, and because of that, I might have died."

"But I did not, because Ranmaru tried to give his life to heal me… I thought he was dead… I wanted to die."

Kisame examined his erratic phrases, as the numbness seemed to shatter as Kurosuki spilt his pent up energy to him.

Thought he was dead…?

"But he wasn't... He was alive, and then I felt so happy and foolish at the same time." A bit of strained, bitter humour slid into his voice, "truly, I'm always a fool, but this time more so then most."

"So what happened?" Why was he so intent on listening to him? Everything that was happening, from a distanced view the whole situation was ridiculous. Kisame began mirroring Kurosuki's position, folding his hands and resting his chin on them.

"Ranmaru… was upset. I thought he was just being himself when he healed me, but there was something very wrong with him."

"What, Kurosuki?"

"He… wanted to die." A torn smile spread about Raiga's face. "He didn't want to continue living. He tried to kill us both. He didn't want to leave me, I suppose, and he didn't want to continue on as he was. He didn't… want to hurt anyone else. And I was the one that hurt everyone."

The series of events played about in Kisame's thoughts, and he was slowly fishing out a conclusion.

The bingo books all said that he had killed himself.

"You faked suicide then?"

There was a pause, and something seemed to be broiling over within the man across from him.

"Did you really think I was dead?" His voice had an edge to it. But rather, he sounded more offended then threatening.

"I didn't know what to think." Kisame dully replied.

"How many times have you faked your death, Hoshigaki?" this came as a direct challenge. Distinct anger tinted his voice.

"Eight…. I'd say." He had to think for a moment about that.

"The Amegakure incident doesn't count." He muttered, and Kisame lifted his head.

"Seven, then, fine." He cleared his throat. "But why, then, Kurosuki? Why fake your death?"

"I thought you were supposed to be the intelligent one." Now his guest was lashing out. "I wanted Ranmaru to be free from my existence…"

His gaze fell lower again, and be chewed his lip before continuing.

"And I was too big of a coward to actually kill myself."

A quiet fell over the two. For once, Kisame considered this one a necessary silence. They both needed it.

"… and I promised Ranmaru that I wouldn't die unless he did…" this came as a whisper, but Kisame could hear it well enough.

Kisame tilted his head down as he rose to his feet, sulking over to the boiling teapot that had sat untouched on the stove. He had to search for a moment to find the cups he needed. They were brown, small, and seemed right for the occasion.

He poured the steaming water over the dry leaves into the cups. The flavour might be off… Kisame never seemed to be good at preparing food of any kind.

He returned to his guest with both cups, and he stooped to set the second before him. Finally, he returned to his seating, and sampled the tea.

It tasted bitter.

And was perhaps a touch too hot.

He peered over to his guest, who took the cup in both hands and dragged it closer to him across the wooden table. He seemed to be pondering over it, blinking dimly at the lightly steaming liquid.

"It's not poison." Kisame spoke up, knowing that statement was just inviting an insult.

"With your cooking, one may never be sure." Spoke his gruff companion.

Ah ha. Of course.

"So then what, Kurosuki. What are you going to do now?"

Raiga seemed to force a laugh. "Hell if I know. Anything I please, it would seem."

"Anything you please?"

"Yeah, Hoshigaki. Dead people don't get chased around. They get to do what they want."

"But what will you _do_?" Kisame pressed forward, taking another sip of tea after his furthering question.

Kurosuki visibly shrugged, "I… I'm honestly not sure… it's not as if I have much to do. I suppose I'll just… keep on living." Gently, he shook his head, as if pondering whether or not he should say what as on his mind.

"Hoshigaki… I have a request."

Lowering his cup, Kisame raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Morals." After that word he quickly added, as if to explain, "Right and wrong. Can you… uh… teach me them?"

His gaze on the man across from him turned incredulous. "Teach you…" Kisame echoed, "Morals?"

Something about the sentiment struck him as outlandishly funny. He knew Kurosuki was being serious. It would be obvious if he wasn't. Allowing himself a few mocking chuckles at Raiga's expense, he coughed before continuing.

"What makes you think someone like me can teach you morals? I came from the same as you, and you of all people should know that I don't count 'morality' as one of my strong points."

"You left a trail wider then a bijuu's wake for me to follow. Hoshigaki. Do you want to know why that trail was so easy to follow?" This time it was Raiga that was chuckling. "What was the fatality rate of your last three missions? Maybe one? You leave so many left alive, and so long as they're alive, they betray you."

Kisame struck a scowl, hunching his shoulders. That made sense. What his companion had said was true enough. Itachi and he, unlike other members of the Akatsuki, weren't particularly fond of killing. Instead they often choose to simply put troubling foes to sleep, via Sharingan, or knock them into submission. As far as he could recall… he had killed maybe one of his recent foes. Or that wound may not have even been fatal.

So all the ones that have been left alive left clues for some to follow? He might have to take actions against that if began causing trouble.

"Fine then. You've made your point. May I ask what this strange request stems from?"

Running his tongue over his lips, Kurosuki at first did not seem willing to reply. After lowering his tea and stirring things up in his mind, he finally lifted his voice.

"It's just that Ranmaru… you know. I thought maybe if I were to become some virtuous being as he wanted, then maybe one day he could… come back to me." His long pauses voiced his uncertainty, and something about his words just angered Kisame.

"You've a brain full of shit, Kurosuki." He placed his empty teacup on the table, and then nudged it out of the way with his elbow.

Across from him, his companion blinked for a moment, before narrowing his eyes.

"You shut your mouth."

"You heard me, Kurosuki. You're an idiot. The dumbest Kirigakure has ever seen."

"If you think that yelling at me," Somehow, Raiga was keeping his throaty voice steady, "and insulting me, is going to get me inspired to do what you want, you're wrong."

"Shut up and listen for a second, will you?!" Came the sudden snap as Kisame nearly came to a standing position, hunching over the table to look his old comrade in the face.

"Just listen." His voice fell lower and, satisfied, Kisame sunk back into his seat. "You want your kid back. I get that. But he isn't going to just come back if you suddenly grow an honour code. You need to just go to the kid. Go find him, and you'll get the kid back."

Kurosuki was still hesitant, and Kisame's look of displeasure spread. "But… but what if he doesn't want me back? I lied to him. And we both loathe liars…"

"Raiga." A smile. "If you're missing him this badly, I don't see how he couldn't miss you either."

A lengthy pause.

"You're trying a bit hard, aren't you… Kisame?"

At this, Kisame found himself chuckling. Yeah. Maybe he was trying a bit hard.

Maybe he was just trying to keep things as they always were, ever since Zabuza and the others began dying off.

He always felt pathetic, talking like this. Too open. Too friendly. Too caring.

Too fake.

In the silence that fell between them, they both listened intently with to the rain, eager to escape the person sitting across from them.

The rain fell without change, just like the two men may never change.

"So, Kisame. How's life in the Akatsuki?" Kurosuki asked, lifting his teacup to his overt lips.

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you, of course."

"Please. I thought we established that I was already dead. Now how have you been living?"

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_Fin_


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